


Final Trials

by TheRustyTaint



Series: Two of a Kind [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRustyTaint/pseuds/TheRustyTaint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the days leading up to their final trials at the Sith Academy Faing and Aegir have to trust each other. Trust might as well be a foreign concept to Sith.</p><p>Chapter 3-No matter how much you think you are in control, someone is always pulling strings in the shadows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part three. Kind of short, but I felt like this chapter should end here.

Two weeks. 

 

Aegir estimated he had two weeks before his final trial would take place. That was if he passed the everything to that point, which he would. It was never a question of if  he would succeed or not. He was born for success and power and he was impatient for it to happen. Two weeks, with one more large task in between. 

 

Things had begun to move faster after the night he found his rival dead on the floor.  The slave-turned-acolyte who’d been sleeping in there was unconscious, bleeding, and clutching the poisoned blade he’d hidden weeks prior. 

 

From there it seemed they’d reached some kind of understanding. Faing was no threat to him - not that the sith would let his guard down. Aegir had no reason to end him, and the smaller acolyte had actually been helpful up to this point. (Surprising, considering his exterior presentation. Though Aegir would never admit to being proven wrong.)

 

 No potentially harmful ulterior motive was immediately discernible and Faing had yet to ask for anything. He seemed content to keep to himself, other than the sarcastic remarks Aegir would catch him muttering under his breath.

 

And even then the pureblood would just chuckle to himself. His new room mate had a sharp tongue and quick wit. 

 

Right now Aegir was beginning his preparation for the final task. It could be any number of things, and the sith would not be caught off guard. 

 

When he entered his room, his eyes did an immediate sweep. Faing was sitting on his bunk, knees curled up to his chest and working between two data pads. The robes and leggings of his former room mate replacing the rags the slave once wore. 

 

He did that a lot. Sitting hunched, making himself appear smaller. He would maintain a state of coiled tension until he had to move, and then proceed to unfurl like a snake from a tree branch.

 

 In Aegirs mind it was a signifier of underlying intelligence and instinct, and deadly reactionary capabilities. A warning to anyone wishing to get aggressive, akin to the poisonous wild life in the jungles. To his amusement, few of the other acolytes at the academy had made such a comparison. In the last week two had died at Faings hands. 

 

The first had tried to shove the former slave down the stairs when no one was around. He’d been found at the base of the steps with his head twisted backwards and an eye put out (Presumably from the long trip down, or so the head of security argued).

 

The second was in the mess hall, during a crowded meal. Faing had entered the commissary and retrieved his food without incident. But it was when he sat solitary that another had worked up the nerve to try and prove themselves. Aegir remembered watching the twi’lek maneuver behind his target and feel the interest bubble. 

 

Before the twi’lek could drive the vibro blade into Faings back, he bounced up and twisted around in a single motion, simultaneously embedding his fork into his attackers eye socket. But the best part was how he went back to eating his meal calmly and quietly. The disturbed mutters and mixed reactions were a plain indicator of the uncertainty the other acolytes now felt.  

 

All of this, from a former slave. One had to appreciate the irony. 

 

Aegir was broken out of his musings by a question. 

 

“How many in your class have obtained light sabers?” 

 

It was an odd question, but he wanted to see where this was going. 

 

“Four, not including myself. Why are you asking?” 

 

“I require two.”

 

“Two?” The sith raised a brow.” You’re getting awfully ahead of yourself.” 

 

Faing shook his head, eyes finally leaving the data pads. “Doesn’t matter.”

 

“I say it does, considering what ever you are up to has potential to affect me.” 

 

The smaller man must have sensed the pointlessness in arguing. “I require a light saber if I’m to attract a master.”

 

“Then enlighten me as to why you need two.” 

 

“To do what you love best,” the snark was painfully evident, but it was a non-offensive tone.” Trounce my opposition in combat.” 

 

“Now that would be amusing to watch.” 

 

He turned the data pads off and shifted off the bunk in one, cat-like movement. He pulled the black hood of his ‘acquired’ robes over his head. 

 

“Watch away for all I care. If I help you kill the other saber carriers, can I take the weapons?” 

 

“I don’t _need_ your help eliminating my competition. I am more than capable.” 

 

“And I never implied otherwise. But I have a way of discovering the dirty secrets of others. If I keep any treachery at bay until your final trial will you allow me to take the sabers?” 

 

“One would have to assume treachery won’t be coming from you.” Aegir remarked, though with a light timbre. 

 

“We’ve already established that I’m not an idiot. Not to mention you’re so worried about my potential back stabbing that you sleep in the same area as me regularly.” There was that wry grin. “Think of it as a trade off, with the added bonus of being rid of me soon.”

 

“How very tempting.” The sarcasm was reciprocated. “I could agree to this, under one condition.” 

 

“And that is?”

 

“Tell me what you are planning. All of it, or the deal is off. I’m not walking into anything partially blind.” There was a tone of finality in his voice. This was not debatable. 

 

“I suppose thats fair.” He picked up one of the data pads and switched it on. “I’m trying to build one of these.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes burning off aggression can help you think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know I've got some readers out there. Hopefully I'll get a review or two out of you. More so I just hope you enjoy reading it. As always any questions please feel free to ask. Still waitin' on the Beta. I could find another, but she's an old gaming buddy so I'll attempt to embody patience. (Not easy when you run on 6 cups of coffee a day, minimum. le sigh- I am an addict.) So I hope you enjoy the few minutes this takes to read. Fantasy will always a welcome, temporary escape.

 

The conversation played over again in his mind, like an audio recording that fueled him through the combat exercises. Anxiety layered on top of doubt. Add a sprinkling of paranoia.

That sith had the ability to end everything he'd worked for, and it had embedded the nervous worry under his skin like a parasite. The goal was so close he could almost taste it. Then the last conversation came roaring back and he wanted to spit on the training mat for the bad taste left lingering in it's wake.

_"You think you're going to be able to build that?"_

_Faing set his mouth in a line and barely held back an exasperated eye roll. His patience for the constant doubt levied on him by everything and everyone was thin. Normally it would roll off his back, but the proximity of success was making him irritable and twitchy._

_Right now the proximity of the pureblood was annoying him too. The dorm felt small and confining. He really despised his personal space being invaded. He hated being touched without permission. Call it a by-product of his former life. Ironically this hadn't been an issue when he was sleeping in the halls and common rooms._

_He pushed past the sith before turning around. "Does it matter?"_

_Aegir smirked at him. "It's just a question."_

_"Yeah, and we're training to be Jedi and fight for peace and prosperity in the Republic." Faing responded dryly. It wasn't creative, but drove the point home nonetheless._

_"Where did you even get the schematics?" The Sith wasn't smirking this time. It looked like genuine curiosity on his face._

_"The holocron library." Faing stalked towards the door. "If you're too suspicious to say yes, I'll find what I need some where else."_

He hadn't given Aegir a chance to answer him. Didn't want to think about how difficult it would be without the sith's help. He needed to burn off excess energy. If he was going to constantly be a target, then being combat ready would ensure survival. Every free moment available he needed to be training.

Upon arriving at the training floor, he'd immediately retrieved a shock staff from the weapons rack. For too long he'd felt as though a traditional saber was not enough, and wielding two deprived you of a degree of versatility. The holocron had shown him what a saber staff adept was capable of, and the style of combat had felt  _right_. Now he could focus on what was important.

The holocron had been another crucial point that propelled him forward. The small pyramid had been created by a member of the Sith Assassin Order centuries ago. Even to a former slave, the gravity of this was not lost on him.

The holocrons where available for use to any acolyte that could illicit a response from them. While other students struggle to open the secrets of the most prominently and commonly used devices, Faing had discovered this one in the back of the library. He'd felt drawn to it, and solved the riddles to open it with little effort. It had been as though the answers were a natural response. Every time he returned to the library it revealed something new to him. Training secrets, paths to developing force powers, philosophical outlooks, theories on the force it's self. As far as he could tell, the device had opened only for him in recent times. Not once was there even an inkling that another student had invested any interest in it.

After several rounds of the exercise, Faing removed the dark, hooded tunic to try and cool off. He was exerting himself more than usual and it felt good. With just the sleeveless black undershirt on, he caught a glimpse of the scaring on his forearms and wrists.

_You really don't like restraints. Next time don't be stupid enough to get stuck in them._

He blinked away the voice and shook his head.

Moving with the shock staff felt better, like he had more ability to maneuver, attack and parry- all at the same time. Damage could be dealt without the need for brute strength or multiple weapons. It complimented his ever-developing acrobatic skills and could be used to augment balance if needed. If applied correctly one could block multiple attacks and still have a free hand for force abilities.

That was another thing that had accelerated since the holocron. His control over the lightning had stabilized.

More than stabilized, the beginnings of pin point precision were visible if you squinted really hard. His centering and concentration came quicker and easier. He had discovered how to extend his awareness outward like a radar and detect life around him through the force.

The last several months of training had seen him gain more ground than the entire time he'd been a student.

He swiped a hand through his recently shorn hair and eyed the balance beam across the room. Two training droids between him and it. Their weapons raised, waiting for him to move. He didn't possess the physical prowess to plow through enemies, embracing strength to accomplish a goal. No, he was all dexterity and reactions. Predicting an attack and reacting before it is even launched.

He eye balled the length of his weapon and the distance the droids stood apart before taking off in a sprint.

Just outside of their attack range Faing used his momentum to leap off the ground, smash in the droids's heads simultaneously, land, and follow through with a graceful flip up onto the beam. He was forced to crouch down in order to recover lost balance but the maneuver had been successful. Not a bit of force was used like he'd learned some Sith were capable of doing.

_If you can't do it without the force, you'll just muck it up trying._

With dexterity like a cat, he performed a handspring and landed sturdier than before. A solid  _thud_  echoed through the room when boots hit beam. He would develop a softer landing for better stealth over time.

The beam was only a few inches across. His boots were not exactly helping, and the former slave contemplated removing them while he practiced. A grin tugged the corner of his mouth up as he recalled the trainer's words from a year ago.

Repeated criticism of his form, agility, and height, among other taller one was, the harder the maneuvers would be. Five feet and roughly seven inches was not exactly tall, but not ideal for acrobatics either. And yet here he was. One more idiot proven wrong.

Incredible how delightful the small victories could be.

From his position he threw his weight to the side and performed a handless cartwheel while firing off a parrying swing of the shock staff. Six months ago he couldn't get his feet over his head without ending up in a heap on the floor. But six months ago Faing had been lucky to get one meal a day or several hours sleep. The difference was noticeable.

A simple back flip and solid planting of feet had him off the beam and on the mat.

Slow deliberate clapping echoed from the other side of the room. His eyes picked out the red faced adorned with a permanent sneer.

Aegir leaned against a pillar by the entry way with his arms now crossed.

"You don't fight like that in group combat."

"I don't do a lot of things in group." He replied dryly.

"Obviously. It's clear now why you would attempt to build such a complicated weapon."

"You're very perceptive. Wanna tell me when my birthday is too?"

"I'd rather you tell me where you found those schematics."

"I'd rather try to hug a gundark."

The sith laughed. "That sharp tongue is going to get you in a lot of trouble one day."

"And when adept at application, such a thing can kill your enemies from half way across the galaxy." Faing replied pointedly, obviously referring to Sith politics.

"Words do indeed carry weight, but I prefer to let my actions speak louder."

Faing whipped around at him, and the snap was out of his mouth before he realized it.

"Well I'm still not hearing anything worth listening to presently. If you'll excuse me  _my lord_ , I need to train."

Aegir felt his face take an expression of surprise, and amusement. The use of the title in a derogatory manner was unexpected and unprovoked. Someone was a bad mood.

Once again the former slave seemed to inadvertently showcase his lack of fear for the larger pure blood.

Aegir suspected that he actually feared very little at the academy, and instead harbored a healthy respect for the dangers present. Himself included.

That was worth due regard and acknowledgement.

As he started to walk away, the weapons rack rattled, and a practice blade somersaulted through the air. Faing side stepped it and followed it's trajectory to the pureblood's hand.

Aegir smirked at him, the challenge palpable before the words were even spoken.

"Then lets see if you're capable of multitasking."

The was an edge in the red eyes, and it goaded the feral animal that paced the borders of Faings mind. His eyes narrowed and the corner of his mouth tugged up into a dark grin. The springs inside that had been coiled too tightly all day shuttered at the promise of finally being released.

The animal spoke to him, like it always did.

_Finally! Don't hold back. Fight like your life is in danger. It very well may be._

And really, what better to test his skills than a fight with the top combatant at the academy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Not sure how many chapters this one will have. I know what has to be fleshed out, but I can't gauge how long it will be yet. If you follow it you'll get updates. *Waggles eyebrows awkwardly.*


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how much you think you are in control, someone is always pulling strings in the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a delay from posting this, but I spent two days in the hospital sitting with my hubby. No wifi to speak of, so I couldn't upload this.
> 
> In this chapter a familiar Darth pops back up. As always read and review! Hope you enjoy it.

 

"So this is where you've been sulking."

The feminine voice floated in the room, reaching his ears and ruining his concentration on the fight below.

"I have not been sulking. And what do you want?" Fractious snapped back, annoyed.

"I came to convey the success of my endeavor. I believe congratulations are in order."

"I'll offer that when you have secured the relics location."

"Oh don't be so sour," his sister purred, moving to to claim a seat caddy corner to him. "We're in this together, remember?"

"If I wasn't so confident that you have little to gain from my demise, I would be awaiting the knife in my back Vikara."

She chuckled. "When you are right, you are right. But I have  _much_  to gain from your success, and  _you_  have much to lose should I be extracted from the equation. So why don't we just settle for some heartfelt sibling hatred and move on to business, hmm?"

All he offered was an undignified grunt and refocused on the sparring match. His current favorites had decided to pummel each other in the empty training room and he was eager to see it play out. It was regretful that Darth Anguis would likely gain the large pure blood as an apprentice. That growing embodiment of destruction would have been useful in the coming stages of his plan.

But the other one, the slave marked, had shown surprising potential. Thankfully he had witnessed it himself before the bigoted and short sighted overseers had swept the acolyte under the rug. Fractious made a mental note to inspect the younglings file later.

"So what  _are_  you watching so intently that you can't be bothered to pay attention to your own blood?" She leaned forward and placed her chin on her delicate wrist, although that was the last word that should ever be used to describe Vicara. He knew full well what his sister was capable of.

"I'm in the market for a new acolyte. Several of the current class are looking promising."

She stood, embodying the kind of grace that would have the Alderaanian ballet green with envy and glided to the viewing glass. She took several moments to assess the activity on the lower floor.

"Well it can't be the pure blood. I see Anguis has already laid claim to that." She gazed down for several seconds more before practically exclaiming, "A slave?!  _Really?_  How progressive of them. When did they start doing that?" She twisted quickly, looking her sibling straight in the eyes. His mask was regrettably on a side table.

He shifted in his chair, be remained seated. "When the Dark council finally began to grasp that our numbers were dwindling. Vowrawn ran the data." Fractious gestured to the smaller human down on the training floor. " He is neither the first or last."

"And you have no issue with this massive shift?"

"It matters little in the grand scheme of things."

She turned back to the glass. " How very optimistic of you brother."

"And your thoughts on it?" He ventured.

She laughed before answering. " We both know power- true power- can spring from the most unexpected of places. It matters very little to me, as I doubt I'll be taking a new apprentice in the foreseeable future."

"Is that so?" His tone was mocking.

"You're very perceptive Fractious. A trait from father. But not even you know how far my power base stretches. I might be so bold as to compare it to Darth Jadus's."

"That  _is_  bold. And borderline seditious. I could report you."

She turned away from the glass again, mock concern masking her true face.

"Oh brother, haven't we been through this? A feud between us would accomplish little more than destroying a foundation of work spanning decades. I've never been fond of wasted endeavors, and I'm not stupid enough to think you'd go down without a considerable fight."

"Are you making a point in all of this?"

"Not one you haven't concluded for yourself already. Presently I find my self curious about this slave you've turned your attention to."

"In what way?" She was baiting him. But Fractious would not leave this curiosity un-tapped.

"Well", her attention was back to the fight,"From the combat alone, the finesse, I'd say that boy is going to be shoved off to the Assassins." She turned again to look at his face, grinning wickedly when she caught his frown. "Oh he  _is_ , isn't he? I'm betting you've already done your homework."

"Thats enough Vikara." Her accurate assumptions were wearing on his nerves. There  _was_  an agent of the Assassin Order here, though he was sure she had yet to lay eyes on the slave. Darth Arachaida. The woman's reputation was steeped in decades of service and not one to over look.

"Maybe he'll even apprentice under  _Darth Pravus._ " The draw in her voice was mocking.

Fractious stood abruptly from his seat. "You walk a dangerous line with my patience sister."

Nearby tables and loose objects shook with a wave of force energy that rolled off of him. He could feel the dark side pooling around him like a cobra waiting to strike, reacting off of his emotions. The mere mention of that name was enough to get his blood boiling, and Vikara damn well knew it.

"Do I now?" She walked from the glass to stand in front of him, hand on hip. "You are a Darth of the Sith Order and a name suffices to stoke your rage?" She was amused now and continued. "Is it his rapid success within the Sith Order as a whole, or just in the Assassins alone?"

"It is his arrogance that infuriates me. Barely out of the academy and he believed himself above all others. Years later and he  _still_  acts as though he's answerable only to the Emperor."

"But thats not it, is it? I think it has everything to do with his refusal as head of the Order, a position you visibly coveted. It must be hard to watch a Rival soar through the ranks of the Assassins until none stood their equal, only to watch them refuse the position that you so desperately desired."

"How I  _feel_  is not something I'm likely to discuss with  _you_." He would salvage this encounter as best he could.

"Now that I can believe. " She smiled her poisonous grin "I do love our chats Fractious, but duty calls me away again. There's a Jedi that has repeatedly defied me and dodged death, who is begging for a lesson in manners."

Now it was his turn to grin maliciously. "The same Knight from the Battle of Godrhag?"

"The very same. Alora Kar. That bitch has been a thorn in the Empire's side since the Jedi put a saber in her hand."

"Too much for you to handle Vikara?" The bubble of joy at his sisters aggravation was almost tangible.

" Hardly. I'm not above admitting when my opponent is worthy."

"Oh come on, it's eating you up inside that you haven't pinned her down yet."

"Don't grasp Fractious, it's not becoming of your status."

"Observations are grasping? If it isn't the Hauk calling the Hutt ugly."

She chuckled and then pulled the hood of her black robes back over her head.

"There was always something you never managed to learn from Father."

He folded his arms across his chest. "This should be interesting."

"Arrogance may be the endearing trait of our family, but you never learned to stop underestimating the wrong people."

She started towards the door, gossamer robes floating about with the motion.

"That's a sanctimonious admonition, coming from someone like you."

She stopped in the archway and threw a smug smile in his direction.

"Time will tell all brother. Good luck with your slave."

When the door slide shut, and she had vanished from sight he felt his temper peak. A glass urn in the corner shattered. How he longed to rid himself of that vile bitch.

But Vikara was useful, and far to dedicated to what they were trying to accomplish to betray him. She knew he was unquestionably leading the effort, and would only probe for weakness in a bid to frustrate him.

The tiny voice of reason in the back of his mind sighed with relief. She was the Sith whose vengeance would take years to mature, and when it did the victim found them selves with no escape route, no way to end their suffering. The Jedi knight might be alive for the next year but her demise was certain at this point.

The fight on the training floor was winding down, and Fractious had lost his interest in it. He commed the keeper of records and ordered several files of information be sent. Like Vikara had stated, he  _always_  did his homework **.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually a lot of fun to write. :) I like Vikara and Fractious and how they interact in my head.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post sparring conversation leads into a more unnerving encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to post chapter 4. Real life's been keeping me busy, and my new work schedule lacks awesomeness. 
> 
> It's shorter than I wanted, but the rest was chopped off for part 5. It felt like it fit better to me that way. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!

By the end of it they had both taken a decent beating. Though he would never admit it, Aegir had underestimated Faing and paid for it with several pronounced bruises to the ribs and lower legs. The smaller guy took no issue with targeting a limb when the vital organs were guarded. He was quick enough to act on the openings and knew how swing the weapon to make it hurt.  

More aggravating was the amount of moving the little shit did. Marauder training involved agility. What ever or who ever taught Faing to fight was different. This was like aggressive acrobatics. Done by a squirrel. On adrenals. He was still determined to know where he’d learned it, and silently vowed to uncover it before leaving the academy.  

If he hadn’t been so frustrated, Faing didn’t think he’d of landed a single hit. He spent half the fight avoiding two painful practice blades and caught a boot to the face for his efforts. Overall the Sith would have won a real duel, no question about it. The guy was a  giant red power house with better sword skills than the instructors. Faing had the stiff shoulder and electrical burns to prove it. Catching a practice blade with your shoulder or lower back hurt. A lot. 

The sparring session ended with the mutually silent agreement that they were both finished. Anger, frustration, annoyance, general contempt had been burnt off. Where Aegirs superior training and breeding put him leaps and bounds ahead, Faing had learned to outlast and out-maneuver years ago just to survive. Technically he would have lost the fight but keeping pace with the pure blood was no small feat. There was a tiny nugget of pride in that. 

As he wiped the sweat from his face and tossed the weapon back on the rack he could hear his stomach growl. He caught a look from the Sith.  

“What?” 

“I’m not going to listen to that while I study.”  

“Don’t get your force in a twist. I’ve got somewhere to be.”  

“And who are you offending with the pleasure of your presence?” The light jab dripped with sarcasm.  

“Well it’s not that dour old witch Laskin. Alas my charm was not enough. She’s more into to muscly and homicidal.”  

“You’ve killed 2 people in three months. You’re suspected in the deaths of four more from almost half a year ago. .”  

“I’m not in charge of commissary maintenance. The droids are supposed to scan the food dispensers for poison.” 

“You routinely reprogram the droids and dispensers.” 

“You can’t prove anything.”  

“You’re a terrible liar.”  

“I’m actually pretty good when I put effort into it.” Faing grinned as pulled the hooded tunic back on.  

“Well start putting effort into it. Most of the overseers would happy to be rid of you.”  

“Don’t I know it.” He put his hands in his pockets, and kept the lopsided grin going as they made for the door. He was exhausted, beat up, and still running on adrenaline. Felt pretty good.  

“As good as the stunt with the food was, they’ll kill you if they find out.” 

“Yeah well, they gotta figure it out, and then prove it. Been banking on their arrogance to keep them ignorant.” 

“You act as though this academy is a game, one your starting to play fast and loose.” It was a mix of accusation and statement. The first move had been trusting the pureblood.  

“Everything’s a game. This one you’re just dancing with death until you can grab the win.  The difference between me and you is I’m making up the steps as I go.” 

“Thats gambling for debt you might not be able to pay.”  

The doors whooshed open for them. 

“Yeah, well I’m working with what I’ve got. When my rich noble uncle dies and leaves me his fortune, I’ll let you know.”  

“You have an Uncle?”  

“Might.”  

His expression reeked of mischief and the humor wasn’t lost on Aegir. He smiled a small smile and reflected momentarily on the sparring session.  

“Your technique needs work. You’re shaky, unsure of your steps, and blade work requires improvement.”  

“And you can eat the dirt off my boots arsehole.”  

Ignoring the insouciant insult, he laughed, and shoved the smaller man by his shoulder in a friendly gesture.  

“ _But,_ the style suits you and you’ve adapted well to it and the weapon choice. Find the focus in the eye of the storm and you’ll be more effective.”  

“Careful there red, you sound like a Jedi.”  

“If you had to dismantle a building would you simply attack it, or find the key structural points to bring it down?”  

“I think I would just pay a demo expert to do the job.” He made a mock picture frame  with his hands. “Then I could just sit back and scream and supervise, like a proper Sith. Or what I’m told one should be.” 

“Little narrowed minded there.”  

“Narrow minded? If that isn’t the pot and kettle.” 

“Besides the overseers, how many Sith have you _actually_ met?”  

The red face fixed on him with a skeptical look. Faing bit his lip and thought for a moment. Another door mechanically slid open and they plodded along the empty hall.

“Four, before coming here.”  

“Really?” Skeptical again.  

“Uh huh”  

“I’m supposed to believe that?” 

The lean figure shrugged.  

“Believe what you want.” 

“Regardless, it’s fallacious of you to think all Sith can fit into a single mold of being.” Aegir waved a hand.  

Faing snorted. 

“Just like it’s ‘ _fallacious_ ’ of everyone to think a slave could survive here?”   

“Touche.”  

“Thank you.”  

“You know what that big of a word means?” Aegir chuckled.  

Faing pulled a face.  

“You know, I’m starting to learn why you’re so popular with everyone. You’ve got that bang-up pure blood charm going.”  

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the walk was damn near companionable. It was crossed between awkward and humorous and Faing struggled to hide his apprehension at Aegir’s emerging helpfulness. It was unsettling to hear constructive criticism on his combat performance and he was unsure what to make of the lack of death threats or aggressive posturing. Being disregarded most of the time had been so much easier to handle. It was predictable and routine, even when staying in that dorm room.  

But now it was evident that Aegir had been paying closer attention than he had thought and the realization was unnerving. Who else had started keeping an eye on him?   

That question answered it’s self several moments later, and he could have smacked himself when a specific memory can roaring back.  

Stepping out from another crimson lit corridor was the same man that had appeared after his duel with Rahgon. Darth Fractcious, mask and creepy black robes all accounted for.  

Immediately he and Aegir ceased walking and assumed a respectful stance. The Darth closed the distance slowly and regarded each of the for a moment, the silver mask turning from one to another.  

“You are dismissed Hythwynd.” He didn’t move, but Aegir bowed and turned sharply to leave. The air was immediately electrified and hostile, and the purebloods absence was felt like a vacuum.  

Faing watched the grey clothed back disappear and his heart hammered with dread after every boot fall. His every instinct screamed that he needed to be as far from this man as possible. Nothing good would happen and everything he had worked for to this point could be shattered.  

“I have business with you acolyte. Do you know who I am?” That voice sent ice water trickling down his spine and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was cool and bass but commanding. 

“Darth Fractcious, my lord.” His own voice had lost the casual assertiveness from conversing with Aegir. Instead it sounded small and shaky. A familiar self loathing at his own weakness burned it’s way up his neck. Loathing at his fear.  

There were very few things Faing feared. His previous Master had desensitized him pretty effectively. Watching people, like the old woman who had cared for you like a mother, electrocuted to death for another’s entertainment would leave a lasting impression.  

Years under that harpies’s thumb would make anyone slightly jaded.  

So when that instant feeling of dread became so strong you wanted to puke all over the durasteel, there was a damn good reason to be sacred.  

When the Darth spoke again, he felt like that scared kid again, cowering in the corner or hiding in the storage closet.  

“Your continued progress here has given me pause, and I think it’s time we discussed your future _without_ the interference of the the overseers." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grammar and vocabulary is still off, but I'm working on it.


End file.
